


Loaded Language

by FaiaHae



Series: Memoria [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: A bizzare amount of linguistics, Alternative Universe - FBI, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Study, Chatlogs, Despite the warnings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Government Agencies, I Lied About The Slow Burn, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, In which Stern becomes the man we all assume is horrifically incompetent, Later the FBI will do some unethical shit, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Monster-hunting, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Stern-Centric, Trans Agent Stern, Trans Male Character, at times it's a chatfic, because there's going to be two alternate sequels, but he's gonna be okay, he isn't though, he's just been trained as a bodyguard and is not used to having to look for trouble, kinda where we're at, so I had to cut it here, the transphobia is blink and you'll miss it, two people in an LDR before the days of skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-04 01:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaiaHae/pseuds/FaiaHae
Summary: How a Linguistics Major trained his ass off, hunted monsters, fell in love with Bigfoot, was sent to hunt Bigfoot, and met Bigfoot- in that order.__Stern joined the foreign service because he was good at languages and wanted to help people. He wasn't expecting to take on creatures from beyond reality, win, finally make some friends, and get press-ganged into the FBI.Life takes some funny turns.





	1. Names and Titles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VigilantShadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantShadow/gifts).



_ Agent _ Stern tried not to admit, as much as possible, that there had ever been a time before the title. 20 or so years of people reading his name off a list and snickering ( _ wow what kind of parents name their kid Lucky) _ gave him a hair-trigger and he resolved from his very first day of school that he was going to be a  _ Doctor _ so no one could make fun of him.

 

And then he realized he had no interest in medicine and decided to do something else.

 

At home, they mixed Italian into their English the way his father mixed spice into the family meals, and the TV programs his dad watched in Arabic and Russian were met with gravity and focus. They were important, somehow, with a weight to them a child’s arms couldn’t quite lift as he wrapped his tongue around them.

 

Words, he’d realized, were important. When he got in his first fight in the schoolyard his tiny fists hadn’t done any damage, but in a blind rage he’d yelled every little thing he’d noticed, sharpened his anger and his observation to a razor’s edge, and his bully went away crying. He didn’t have any real friends after that, but that was just fine with him, because kids were mean, and he wasn’t going to let anyone tear him down for the things that made him special. He wasn’t going to be  _ Luciana.  _ He went home with his fists clenched and told his parents everything, and they listened. The doctors taught him the words- transgender, testosterone, transition. They felt right. They fit him better then any of the dresses he’d worn as a child, better then the high socks and the heels he’d tottered on when he stole from his mother’s closet. He stole his father’s ties instead, and his father taught him to tie them and went to school with him to talk to the teachers. 

 

They all sat around the table at home, papers strewn across the surface like birthday party napkins, and they talked about his names. Lucky stayed- they could all agree on that. Stern had grown up with the story of his mother’s rough pregnancy, and the name was a celebration of both of their lives. Even 10 years old, in his father’s tie in the too-big chair, he took it seriously. Luciana was easy, A to an O. His mom flipped back through her old diary, mumbling, before she stopped. “We had a name picked out for a boy, too.” She bopped him on the nose like a fairy granting a wish, and he laughed. “Stanley. Stanley Stewart, because it’s no fair that you got your dad’s last name and not mine.” His mother was proud of the family that had adopted her, and he loved his grandparents. Family, he figured, meant more than just the same cheekbones, the same eyes. So he took his name with pride, but it was a bit unwieldy. He felt like it was a story, one too personal to tell. 

 

So Lucky Luciano Stanley Stewart Stern became just Stern. And he started to learn about words.

 

He read a lot, alone in the school libraries during lunches, in the sections he wasn’t supposed to be in, and he absorbed everything he could get his hands on. He learned about detectives, about law, about science, about magic. He learned not to talk about the magic, because the impressed look in his teacher’s eyes got condescending when he started to talk about the phylogeny of pixies. He read those at home, and his parents were happy with him, and when they offered to let him skip grades he ignored the worried whispers of  _ but it’ll be harder to make friends  _ and asked them to sign the forms. 

 

Stanley Stern was going somewhere, even if he wasn’t sure where just yet.

 

When he graduated High School at 16, he didn’t know any of the names of his classmates, but his parents were proud of him. 

 

He was in his room that night, sitting on the bed, mentally unshelving his books and placing them in the boxes they’d need to fit into when he went off to college. His father had been gone somewhere, some mission they weren’t supposed to know about. He got back late, and Stern would have gone out to meet him, but he heard their voices in the hall, soft, frantic.

 

_ -don’t know what I saw. I got a call on the phone a moment before it happened, on the one no one’s supposed to have the number to, and-  _

 

His father broke down, and his chest twisted. He slid off the bed and padded closer to the door.

 

_ -This voice said ‘at the corner of riding road and Nantucket, when you see the street sign. Get down. You are more important than you know.’ He was speaking italian, and it just felt- familiar. Like his accent was strange but- when I got there- I saw the sign- and I- I did it. I dove. Something went over my head, something that would have gone right through me and it doesn’t make any sense. Why me? _

 

Stern looked down at the legs of his UFO pajamas, and he thought about words. He thought about the forms they could take and the way they taught him in class that you could phrase a sentence a hundred ways, for a hundred different people to be willing to believe you. You needed to speak the right language. You needed to say the right words.

 

Stern decided that he was going to be a linguist.

 

_______

 

The question of what exactly his father had seen bothered him, like an itch under his skin. He learned to push it down, to keep notebooks with his intrusive thoughts tucked away from where anyone could see them. He studied hard, picked up Farsi and Chinese in his spare time, still didn’t make any friends. He kept his head down. He asked his father over the summers to teach him how to shoot, how to patch a wound, how to drive a car with the same precision.

 

He learned, and he learned, and he had a Masters in Linguistics, a minor in law, and a spotless record by the time he was 22, when he applied to join the Diplomatic Security Service. He passed the examination with flying colors. The man who ran his background check saw his paperwork, looked him up and down, and let him pass. He’d long forgotten the books about pixies and aliens he’d hidden under the bed in his childhood home. 

  
That was  _ Agent  _ Stern’s very first mistake.


	2. Case Files #1- Iran- Karkadann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Containing: texts, mysterious phone calls, and some facts-I-just-made-up about cryptids

Stern got a phone call two months into his tenure at the Iranian embassy.

 

He was still relatively new at this job- at his first post abroad, still excited by the work and the sunglasses and not yet totally exhausted by his fellow patriots whining about their families at home. He hardly even noticed that it was on a secure line until the calming voice started up, in Italian.

  
“ _Hello Stanley. There’s something in the desert that you will be interested in hunting, and will be interested in hunting you. Go looking for friends and you’ll find them.”_

 

Stern glanced around. No one was looking at him sideways. He knew he should report a security breach on the phone, but he remembered his father.

 

He took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

 _“Who’s this?”_ He mumbled in Mandarin.

 

“ _A friend. Keep your chin up._ ” The man replied in Cantonese, and then the phone-line went dead.

 

___

 

Stern told himself that he wasn’t going to go wandering off into the desert because a mysterious voice on a phone told him to, because that was a quick way to get dead in his profession, and surely he’d been trained better then that.

 

Nevertheless, the next time he had a day off he went wandering off into the desert.

 

Because a mysterious voice on the phone told him to.

 

___

 

Stern reflected, oddly calm despite full-scale sprinting away from what he was pretty sure was the mutant child of a unicorn and a rhino, that maybe if he was going to take the call at face value then he should have listened a bit more closely to it’s advice.

 

The thing heaved behind him, a lunge, and Stern knew he wasn’t going to outrun it. He turned on his heel and emptied the entire clip of his gun into its head. He had about 10 seconds of grim satisfaction as the bullets hit home before the thing fell and the horn went through his shoulder.

 

The phone rang, and he managed to get it with the arm that wasn’t utterly ruined and pinned under a _fucking_ unicorn.

 

“ _Really, Agent Stern?”_ Said the same cold voice as last time, in Italian.

 

Stern grinned, wheezing through the pain.

 

“Sorry, sir.”

 

“ _I hope you brought a change of clothes. Send a text to the number I’m sending you. Write mine down in that notebook of yours, but don’t bother with his.”_

 

The phone beeped in a received text, and the line went quiet.

 

Stern sighed and did as he was told.

 

_xxx-xxx-9083: Hey I’m really sorry about this but I got a weird phone call that told me to text you._

_xxx-xxx-9083: ....I should probably also mention that I think i’ve been speared by a unicorn._

 

Stern spent the most agonizing 10 seconds of his life breathing slowly and hoping that this wasn’t going to be the world’s worst prank call.

 

**_xxx-xxx-2176: Where?_ **

 

Stern blinked.

 

_xxx-xxx-9083: In the shoulder_

**_xxx-xxx-2176: No, where are you? In the world?_ **

 

Stern figured he should probably not be sharing that information, but fuck it, he was bleeding out in the desert.

 

_xxx-xxx-9083: Iran_

**_xxx-xxx-2176: OKay. That’s not good. I think a karkadann got you, and their horns are poisonous, so you’re gonna need to pull that out like RIGHT now._ **

_xxx-xxx-9083: would this be a bad time to mention that I can’t feel my arm_

**_xxx-xxx-2176: r u fucking kidding me_ **

**_xxx-xxx-2176: roll until it’s loose or something, I promise it’ll feel better as soon as the thing is out._ **

Stern took a deep breath, braced himself, and pushed against the body on his shoulder with his free arm, pushing himself backwards. Slowly, agonizingly, he got loose- and as the horn pulled out, the sensation came rushing back in. Unfortunately, the sensation was mostly pain. Baby steps.

 

_xxx-xxx-9083: Okay. I got it out, you’re right, I can feel it now. It’s poisonous?? Is there anything I can do about that??_

**_xxx-xxx-2176: Cut off the horn and take it with you if you can, if you make a poultice out of the bit at the base it should heal up pretty fast._ **

**_xxx-xxx-2176: apparently it’s good for epilepsy or something but honestly mostly it’s just a good antidote to itself so i’d toss it as soon as you’ve done that. You do NOT wanna get caught with that thing they’ll think you were killing elephants._ **

 

Stern took a moment to try to process that, but his brain unequivocally refused. He typed the only thing that came to mind.

 

_xxx-xxx-9083: Sounds like you’re speaking from experience._

**_xxx-xxx-2176: More than i’d like to be._ **

**_xxx-xxx-2176: Hey glad you’re alive and all that, but I hope you know not to go sprinting into the city yelling shit about unicorns, right? Like you’re aware that would break bad?_ **

**_xxx-xxx-2176: Sorry i’m just kind of realizing that I have no idea who the fuck you are_ **

**_xxx-xxx-2176: and I hope to shit you’re trustworthy_ **

 

Stern wasn’t sure what to say about that. He hadn’t been planning on saying anything, more out of conviction that he wouldn’t be believed then anything else. The number on the phone seemed to have different concerns. He sighed, pulling out his med-kit as he typed a last message.

 

_xxx-xxx-9083: Wasn’t going to tell anyone I got gored by a unicorn, no, but now I extra won’t. That would be a pretty shitty way to repay you for saving my life._

 

He didn’t get a reply, but honestly, he wasn’t really expecting to. He started planning on how he was going to ask for a new phone without admitting his had been breached.

 

He supposed they both had their concerns about trust.

 

He’d been back in his room 20 minutes, rubbing the poultice into his wound, when it hit him like a ton of bricks.

 

_He’d just texted a random number and not only had they known exactly what he was fighting, they’d known what wounds it inflicted and how to cure them._

 

_They’d killed one._

 

And they’d asked where in the world he was to determine what he meant by _unicorn._

 

Stern got up, went to the bathroom, and vomited.

 

He had a terrible feeling that the world was much bigger than it had ever felt before.


	3. Red Ledger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a rather chatfic-y chapter. that's where we're at. soz. (there are no OCs in this chapter! make your guesses!)

 

Stern decided that, despite the sheer _terror_ that gripped his gut every time he thought about that phone call and the number he’d written in his notebook, it was better to be prepared. No sooner had he thought that then his phone beeped, twice. Two texts from the mysterious caller. Stern was disappointed, incomprehensibly, that it hadn’t been the man he texted about the horn.

 

_xxx-xxx-1234: redataecology.ru_

_xxx-xxx-1234: subsection, redata critique, board name “International Index 0”. Password locked. Today it’s KDGJKFJI789#jkl. You’ll have to get tomorrow’s off the board prior to midnight._

 

Stern did as he was told, and didn’t even yell at himself that much about it.

 

He wasn’t sure if that was a step forward or back.

 

He navigated through the site- a forum dedicated to conservation ecology, mostly. There were lots of threads discussing specific species and their spread and range. Critique. Discussion of bribery, poaching...many of these threads were password locked, but it didn’t take long to find the one he’d been referred to.

 

He clicked on it and typed in the password, minding the caps.

_____

**RED DATA HUNTERS GUILD**

Bringing invasive cryptospecies down to Category 0

 

📃📌THREAD: RULES

📃📌THREAD: Confirmed Kill Listing

 _Started by_ 🗨 _hotncold, last post by_ 🗨 _PoncedeLeon, “B, I brought you into this world, I could take you out of it again”_

📃THREAD: Who keeps letting hotncold in here i’m not mad I just wanna talk -Victorious

 _Started by_ 🗨 _hotncold, last post by_ 🗨 _Victorious “HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HTIS”_

📃THREAD: Silver weapons or cold steel?

 _Started by_ 🗨 _Victorious, last post by_ 🗨 _PoncedeLeon “no question you need a special gun to shoot iron i cant afford that SHIT”_

📃THREAD: You all matter far more than you know

 _Started by_ 🗨 _hotncold, last post by_ 🗨 _hotncold “don’t send that message Leon, just don’t”_

_____

Against his better judgement, Stern clicked the second thread, and immediately got a _set a username to create a profile_ popup. He huffed, typed “U.S.S.Truthseeker” into the window, hammered out a password, and continued through.

 

It returned him to the main page, where there was a new thread.

______

📃THREAD: Welcome to the family, U.S.S.Truthseeker!

 _Started by_ 🗨 _hotncold, last post by_ 🗨 _Victorious “stop calling us that we’re not the fucking mafia and you better not have invited somebody else in here without asking me we can’t keep f....”_

______

 

Stern spent a moment debating whether or not to close the tab and never come back, absentmindedly clicking at the link as he did.

 

_____

Victorious⭕: Cold, we’ll see how good your foresight is when I punch you into next fkin week

Hotncold👓: I’ll be sure to say hi to you when you’re on the arc of the skilift at the resort you’re visiting with your family on sunday at exactly 6:02pm when your niece tells you she’s tired and the lift stops for 10 terrifying seconds.

Hotncold👓: lol

Bbearthebartender🐻: Seriously man, you have gotta stop doing that

Hotncold👓: I was threatened with violence! Also, hi Stanley. If you close the tab now your future becomes shrouded. You lose your way. You become a danger to those you love when you lose the motivation that guides your trigger.

Hotncold👓: lol

 

U.S.S.Truthseeker: What

 

Hotncold👓: Oh good you’re still here

Hotncold👓: lol

U.S.S.Truthseeker: Well I can’t not respond to you....so politely mentioning me.

Bbearthebartender🐻: super sorry about him. Welcome to the team!

Bbearthebartender🐻: read the rules, post your kills, ask advice, etc.

Bbearthebartender🐻: Well, uh, actually, don’t post your kills. Send them to me or victorious or like....wait until Cold inevitably posts them before you get the chance to.

Hotncold👓: Oh I posted his like, yesterday.

Hotncold👓: Along with the one from that lovely lurker (hi C! Nice work on the manticore!) and the one you’re going to kill in about an hour, B.

Hotncold👓: Oh, right, on a related note, watch your 6.

Bbearthebartender🐻: my w

_____

 

Stern tried to pull away from the computer, he really did. Cold had said that B would kill...whatever it was. Or already had? Nothing about this situation was clear. So he sat, and he waited, and he re-checked the rules tab and the list of kills (Karkadann, killed in Iran, posted well before he’d gotten the phone call.) He waited.

 

_____

 

Victorious⭕: Cold, it’s been an hour, where’s B.

Hotncold👓: Closer than you think

Hotncold👓: lol he’ll be back in like 5 minutes dw

Bbearthebartender🐻: COLD what the FUCK if you were going to warn me then like a little sooner then “hey by the way there’s a SNAKE hanging on the branch above you” that would have been LOVELY

Hotncold👓: preparation is no match for instinct! There are a great many timelines, some of which may have led to you prematurely defending yourself and being bitten in the forearm and dying slowly and horribly

Hotncold👓: lol

Bbearthebartender🐻: fair enough.

Bbearthebartender🐻: Hey, S, email me? My info’s in the rules. We need to get you set up a bit.

 

____

 

Stern came back to himself slowly, far too focused in on reading and not enough on what was being said to him. He massaged his forehead, sighed, and went to compose the email.

 

Too late to back out now.


	4. Casefiles #2- United States- El Cuero

Stern had done his part, gotten a tiny picture next to his name, and hardly talked on the board since. They all seemed.....nice enough, save Cold, who apparently got banned on a daily basis for something or other. Victorious was suspicious of everything, but gave very detailed advice about modern weaponry.

That distinction was important because of PonceDeLeon, who....had some very interesting ideas about combat with a broadsword. He had guns as well, it seemed, he just preferred a more “personal touch.”

To each their own, Stern supposed.

Still, he hadn’t been very active. He’d checked over the reported sightings, tried to keep prepared for anything he might run into. Made one minor kill that Cold had credited to him a full 12 hours before a tiny gremlin jumped out of his hotel cabinet and tried to strangle him. 

It had been a few hours since he’d been able to check the board. It had been bothering him, since he thought his life expectancy was probably longer if he was prepared for what he was going to run into. 

He was in Florida, for reasons that completely escaped him but were deeply and ineffably classified, and he decided that even if he had clearance, he didn’t want to know. There were some car escorts, some paperwork, some busywork. He took a walk at the end of the day, along the shore near the government base that absolutely did not officially exist.

There was a shape in the water that he thought had to be a tree’s shadow, but then it got bigger.

And bigger.

And something rose up from the marsh, and he sighed.

Here goes nothing.

____

Hotncold👓: 

KILL REPORT- El Cuero, USA- U.S.S.Truthseeker. Confirmed 3.40pm, EST

_____

Barclay blinked at the screen.

He was in a safe house in Canada, pressed up against the window and trying to get a little more light. It was cold, this far north, way colder then he was used to in human skin. He thumbed the crystal at his neck. He missed his fur. 

He frowned, trying to focus on the problem at hand, and went back into the sightings board. When was the last time anyone had even seen El Cuero? Not for a couple years, for certain. And it had been in.....Brazil. Leo had seen it in Brazil.

And it had ripped a hole in his arm that still had an ugly scar. Leo didn’t scar easy. 

That....bothered him.

Barclay chewed his lip. The kill time was coming up, which meant that Stanley (and Barclay felt bad that Indrid had dropped the poor man’s name right off the bat) was probably still out on the hunt. 

He pulled up the check-in board.

____

Bbearthebartender🐻: Hey, Cold, any guesses on if S is alright? I remember when Leon took on that thing.  
PoncedeLeon🔪:Yikes, that kid’s made of tougher stuff than I am. It’s taken me years and I still haven’t gotten all of my blood out of that carpet. Don’t think i’m ever going back to that safehouse.  
Hotncold👓: Best not to, it’s been compromised.  
Hotncold👓: S will probably live!  
Hotncold👓: lol

PoncedeLeon🔪: It’s been what?  
Hotncold👓: Hide-behind moved in about two months ago. Did I not mention that? Oopsies. lol.  
____

The conversation shifted on, and Barclay rubbed his forehead. Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.

Before he could think too much about it, he’d reopened the email thread from getting S onto the server and set up.

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject: [Mission injuries]

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Hey are you alright? Cold was being threatening and I know how bad that thing is, Leo tried to fight it a couple years back and it broke bad really quickly. I hope you’re doing alright

-B

Barclay didn’t get a reply for an hour, and he was starting to work himself up into a panic when he finally got a new message.

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject: [Re: Mission injuries]

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

I’ll live

-S

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject: [Re. Mission injuries]

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

You are really not inspiring confidence right now, man.

-B

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject: [Re: Mission injuries]

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Okay, so maybe I got horribly mauled by what I think was a furry octopus and ended up in a local hospital and had to tell them I slipped and fell into the sewer. On the bright side, they believed me, because a fucking furry octopus knocked me into a sewer. I was in a sewer. I’m on medical leave, apparently, probably deciding whether or not falling into a sewer means I’m too incompetent to protect diplomatic agencies. Joke’s on them, though, because I’m the only one who speaks Czech. 

-S

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject: [Re. Mission injuries]

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

...Czech? Also, just hypothetically, did you...get any painkillers?

-B

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject: [Re: Mission injuries]

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Oh my god, B, I’m on so many drugs. They gave me. A lot. Of pills. I was really fucked up. I fell in a sewer. Why was I in a sewer? How did I even kill the thing? Where did it’s body go? If I was trapped down there, would I have eaten it? I think raw octopus....wait people eat that. Maybe that’s where it went. Maybe I ate it. 

-S

Barclay wheezed.

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject: [Re. Mission injuries]

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

I don’t think you ate it. They probably didn’t see the body what with the....sewage. You can ask Cold what happened to it later if it makes you feel better.

Hey, in case you’re not back in time tonight, the passcode for tomorrow is JFDJGH*(*(FKDJ. Rest up. You did good today.

-B


	5. Blood and Water

Stern holds out a whole month before he sends the next email, mostly because of the sheer unadulterated shame of his high-on-painkillers ramblings.

Of course, he can blame it on a few things. After they decide he’s fit for service they send him into a language course for Korean, and despite the fact that his mother would always consider America her real home, he’s excited for it. It’s a connection to a family he never knew. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. He thinks about it, drums his fingers on his desk at home, and reminds himself of other commitments he’s made.

He hasn’t checked in in a few days. He’d lost the password, and he really didn’t want to have to message Cold for it, because he felt like if Cold let him in twice he’d never live it down. And Victorious was still suspicious of him because Cold let him in. Leon.....killed monsters with a broadsword. 

So he reopened the email thread.

____

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject:Locked out 

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Hello, 

Sorry, it’s been a few days since i’ve been able to get online, I’ve been busy with classes. Is there any way I can get the password from you? 

Thanks,

S

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:RE: Locked out

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Hey S!

I noticed you hadn’t been on! Cold’s supposed to tell us when people are locked out, but well...he’s got his own motivations. As you may have noticed. Sorry. Password’s UITH@JKFD-HGK7687. Hope you can make it on! You got two hours!

P.S- Class? Really? What job are you doing where you get medical leave while you’re still in college? Unless you’re in high school. Please tell me you’re not in high school.

-B

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

It’s not really that kind of class. I get language training and go overseas to translate for diplomatic missions and stuff. Grad school’s a few years behind me at this point, thank god. I don’t miss that at all.

I miss high school even less, somehow. Did you think I was some gun-wielding 16 year old for a minute there? That doesn’t seem safe or sane.

-S

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Thank god! Hey, you’d be surprised. Some of us have been in this life a long time. It wasn’t really a choice, and it’s not something I’d wish on anyone, but it happens.

Well, uh, I think Leo got a choice, but it was kind of one of those sword-in-the-stone style choices. He’s always been pretty self-assured. But you may have noticed, he’s....special. 

Your job sounds cool! What’re you studying now?

-B

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.

As Stern typed it, a sense of deja-vu hit him, and he realized why this conversation had sounded so familiar. Something about the way that B talked, the pacing, the jump ahead and the worry, reminded him of the day in the desert, and the number Indrid had given him.

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Hey uh, off topic, but- did Cold give you a phone number to text about a karkadann? A few months ago?

Yeah Leo’s....something. Lots of valuable insight. Please tell me he’s older than me, I don’t think I could stand to find out that the guy giving seasoned broadsword advice is 16.

I’m studying Korean right now! I should be heading over there in a few months. Been checking the board for sightings, so let me know if anything’s in the area.

-S

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Yeah, how’d you know?

Lol! Well, I don’t know how old you are, but Leo’s like....uuh. Somewhere north of 40. Don’t know for sure. 

I’ll send em your way if there are :)

-B

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Well, I guess I gotta lead by thanking you for saving my life and also saving me from Victorious's rage if I got Cold to let me in again, so you’ve basically saved my life twice over.

I’m 23, so the ruling stands, he’s an old man. 

Hey, so, don’t answer if you want, because i know it’s personal. You sound like you’re speaking from experience. How young were you when you got mixed up in all this?

-S

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

I mean, I know your name, so I guess it’s only fair you know something about me. Especially since I’ve apparently got your phone number too, lol. Cold’s a conniving son of a bitch, isn’t he?

I kind of grew up in... I guess you could say a community. Really strict rules. I didn’t really follow those rules, and I got the boot when I was 16. Ran with Leo for a while, but you know him. Nowadays I hunt solo, which the members of my old community aren’t terribly fond of. They like it better when all their exiles settle in one place and they can keep on watching.

Sorry that’s.....vague. Kinda can’t talk about it much. Shouldn’t even be talking about it now. Actually I might just de

Stern laughed, and then felt kind of bad about it. Especially since B’s situation seemed.....delicate. He could relate. His situation was kind of delicate too.

He thought for a minute, noting the notification pop up that he was 100% sure said ‘ignore that’, and considered deleting the email and pretending he hadn’t seen it. That way, he didn’t owe B any honesty in return. That way, he could close the conversation and go on being distant acquaintances. Except that B had still saved his life. B had still replied to his messages when he was fucked up on painkillers in the hospital. B had gone to check on him when he’d fallen down the sewer. B hadn’t been satisfied with taking Cold’s word for it. 

Stern felt warm, and wondered if this was how it felt to have friends. He wasn’t willing to give it up. 

He didn’t delete the message.

From: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: Locked out

To: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Yeah i’m gonna guess that you meant to hit back and hit send instead. Don’t worry about it, your secret’s safe with me. I mean, I’ve basically told you what my job is, which I am also not supposed to do (technically a government employee)(on a related note, I had to toss the phone, for security reasons).

Jeez, I can’t imagine what growing up in a fucking cult must have been like. You know that’s a cult, right? Good on you for getting the hell out of there.

(I can see that notification: I’m gonna guess you sent me a don’treadthat email, too late!)

Anytime you need to talk, I’m here. 

-Stanley


	6. The expected and the Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which mistakes are made

Hotncold👓: S, you’ve got incoming.  
Hotncold👓: stop fantasizing about holding hands with B and pay attention to the road  
Bbearthebartender🐻: COLD  
U.S.S.Truthseeker🦅: I was NOT

Okay, so maybe he was. Stern put his phone down and focused his attention back on the road, and as he did, a pair of headlights lit up his rearview mirror. He watched them, absently, half-scanning the road for something to go diving out in front of his car.

He and B had been talking for a couple of months now, sometimes on email, sometimes on the board (everyone teased them relentlessly, but he’d grown to kind of enjoy it) (He really hadn’t had friends when he was younger). It felt....right. They weren’t quite together, but they talked about everything, and B had never objected to any of the teasing they got. Neither of them had updated their profile descriptions after Victorious had edited B’s to “S’s boyfriend” and his to “B’s boyfriend.” They’d just....been. Stern kind of wondered-

The headlights in the mirror went blindly bright for a split-second, and that was all the warning Stern had before the car behind him slammed into his bumper. 

Like an idiot, and not at all like someone who had to take classes in combat driving, Stern slammed on the breaks, and like the idiot he was, was immediately run off of the road as the car behind him went even faster. He scrambled for the emergency brake to try to force them both to a stop, but even as he did, the road turned and he was driven with supernatural force through the safety railing and-

Oh. 

Oh, he was an idiot. 

He wondered, in the moment of free fall as the ground fell away, how carefully Cold had planned that warning, and then his car hit the ground and he didn’t think about anything at all. 

___

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:RE:...

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Hey Stanley, Cold got weird after he sent you that warning. I’m a little worried. Send me a message as soon as you can? He didn’t post the kill, so I guess it got away. Rough, but you can’t win them all.

-B

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:Are you alright?

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Hey Stanley, can you check in with me? And can I have your phone number, for next time? I know you can see the board on your phone but if it’d be easier to just send me a message I just....wanna make sure you’re okay.

-B

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject:Stanley?

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Hey I’m trying not to panic but it’s been over 24 hours, Cold’s being weird, and nothing good ever comes of Cold being weird. Please tell me you just got your phone confiscated for surfing the web while driving

-B

From: [Hotncold@email.redledger.com]

Subject:Perhaps I could have worded that warning better

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Consider this my apology, I thought that would end a little bit better. I know you can’t read this, since you’re still in the ICU, but it seems to make some minor statistical impact to send the message anyway, so. Here it is: try very hard not to die.

\- Cold

From: [Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

Subject: please don’t be dead

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com]

Stanley I’m so sorry to keep messaging you I just hope you’re gonna get back some time soon and yell at me but I just need to keep typing or i’m going to go insane

Cold won’t tell me what happened. He says you’re still alive but he takes too long to send the message. He’s replying like a normal person. That’s terrifying.

Stanley, I don’t know if I ever said it, but I really care about you. You mean a lot to me. Please, please, please don’t be dead.

yours,

B

From: [Hotncold@email.redledger.com]

Subject:hes going to be fine stop worrying also hi stanley

To: [USSTruthseeker@email.com, Bbearthebartender@email.redledger.com]

JKGF567&*^lklKL

Consciousness came by painful, painful degrees, and with it the vague conviction that someone was going to kill him for something. It wasn’t until about two weeks into his hospital stay that he was awake enough to remember that the Red Data Hunters Guild were going to be pissed, or worse, worried. He was pretty sure Cold would know he was alive, but...

Well, it had been a bit touch and go for a bit there. Maybe even Cold couldn’t be sure.

Still, the last email was marked as having been sent exactly 5 minutes before he got his phone back, and when he typed the string of characters into the hunter’s guild password box, it let him back in immediately. Seeing the front page was a blessed relief he wasn’t expecting, like coming home.  
___

RED DATA HUNTERS GUILD  
Bringing invasive cryptopspecies down to Category 0

📃📌THREAD: RULES  
📃📌THREAD: Confirmed Kill Listing  
Started by 🗨hotncold, last post by 🗨 Victorious, “You’re absolutely sure neither S nor the fucking monster bit it? That’s not usually how this goes”  
📃THREAD: Thacker, At 3.01PM lift your hand to the level of your eyes  
Started by 🗨hotncold, last post by 🗨T.hacker, “thanks”  
📃THREAD: Stanley will be back momentarily, stop panicking  
Started by 🗨hotncold, last post by 🗨 Bbearthebartender “I don’t know if I trust you about this, cold, since apparently you didn’t stop him from GETTING HURT”  
_____

Stern huffed out a laugh and clicked the last thread. 

_____

Hotncold👓: I wouldn’t lie to you, B. And before you type that message- No, it wasn’t, you just reacted in a completely unexpected way. There was a 99% of chance of that working out fine, but you had to go for the fire poker instead.  
Bbearthebartender🐻: You PROMISED ME you were never going to mention the fire poker again COLD  
Hotncold👓: Hello S. Feeling better?  
U.S.S.Truthseeker🦅: Much better than 70% of the way dead.  
Bbearthebartender🐻: Fuck, S, I never thought it would be such a relief to see that bald eagle emoji.  
Bbearthebartender🐻: You had better send me an email with your phone number in the next 10 minutes or i’m going to find you, there can’t be that many hospitals in Moscow.  
U.S.S.Truthseeker🦅: What makes you think i’m in Moscow?  
Hotncold👓: Had to make a sightings report! Don’t worry, your information is safe, as it turns out, there are quite a lot of hospitals in moscow.  
Hotncold👓: Also, B, he’s not in one that’s listed in any directory you would have access to. Give him 11 minutes and 20 seconds, the nurse just came in to change his IV.

___

11 minutes and 30 seconds later, Stern had sent the message, gotten a text, and felt a lot better about the future.

Of course....that might have been the drugs.


	7. Case Files #3- Russia- Black Volga

_xxx-xxx-8765: Hey save my number this time I promise I won’t throw my phone out in a panic_

 

Stern snorted, composing a reply as he made his way on foot down the Moscow sidewalk.

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: you promise?_ **

 

_Bbear: I promise. I’m gonna save yours as Stanley Truth. Totally seems like a real name_

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: seems a bit unfair_ **

 

_Bbear: Maybe I just like you calling me bb._

_Bbear: and I am a bear. That’s just a fact._

 

Stern was holding his phone to his chest and trying to think of a reply that wasn’t just a happy keysmash when headlights lit up behind him, and he sighed. Killing demonic cars really ought to drag up emotions that weren’t _irritation._

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: I would very much like to continue this conversation at great length later, but I think I’m about to get hit by a car. Bbs!_ **

 

_Bbear: You’re what_

_Bbear: stanley you just got out of the hospital please tell me you didn’t go after the Black Volga again._

_Bbear: STANLEY_

 

Stanley did _not_ get hit by a car, but it was mostly out of luck and sheer force of will. Indrid had posted the kill the day before Stanley got out of the hospital (and since it was a government hospital, they’d kept him in a few days longer then he really needed to be, too). He was pretty confident he could pull this off.

 

Still, it didn’t stop his heart from pounding as he stepped into the road and fired into the hood of the car. One shot. Two. Three. Jump.

 

Stern took a deep breath, lunged forward, and jumped.

 

He hit the hood of the car already rolling, going over the roof and airborne for a terrifying fraction of a second before his feet hit the ground again, and he had to keep carrying his momentum forward.

 

He finished his roll on the concrete, coming back up again slamming the next round into his gun and turning, firing into the back tires as the black volga slammed on it’s brakes.

 

When it reversed, he was ready, diving sideways and reloading as it shot past him.

 

His heart was pounding in his ears, but the car was already making a sickening rattle, and he grinned.

 

He had it.

 

___

 

_Bbear: STANLEY COME BACK SO I CAN TELL YOU I’M NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN_

_Bbear: you FUCKER I know you’re okay because Cold posted the kill but if you end up in the hospital again I’m going to fly over there government secrets be damned._

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: I don’t think you could beat Victorious here_ **

**_xxx-xxx-5694: nope, no hospital! B! It turns out that I’m a badass!_ **

 

_Bbear: okay I already knew that but I find the fact that you’re mentioning it concerning, babe._

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: I jumped a car! Also shot it a bunch and then walked away while it exploded!_ **

**_xxx-xxx-5694: ...are you still there? B? Babe? Boo?_ **

 

_Bbear: You get a pass on babe but never call me boo again!!_

_Bbear: Yeah I’m here I just needed a minute to recheck the black volga sightings_

_Bbear: You know that fucking car has killed a *lot* of people_

_Bbear: I’m really proud of you and also kind of low-key scared you’re hurt and not telling me?_

_Bbear: you’d tell me, right?_

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: of course. I don’t keep secrets from you, you know that, right?_ **

 

Stern took a deep breath, considering how much of a risk he was taking. But it was _true._ Down to its barest components. And if-.... He sighed, laying down on his back. He was back in his room, avoiding the mess and drama from a 3am car explosion in the factory district. If anyone asked, he’d been here all night.

 

...he had feelings for B. It was a fact, and not one he felt inclined to ignore, given that he was almost certain B felt the same way. And so...hopefully B would respect him enough to avoid asking about state secrets, but if there was ever going to be anything between them, he wasn’t going to start on a foundation of bullshit.

 

It was another agonizing minute before his phone buzzed out the reply.

 

_Bbear: I know._

 

Stern smiled at his phone, rested it on his chest, and forgot, for a moment, about the thousands of miles of distance. Despite never having said the words, he fell asleep feeling loved.


	8. An offer you can't refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mind the new chapter count

 

The car explosion didn’t go unnoticed.

 

Actually, to say it didn’t go unnoticed would be the understatement of the century. The Russian government didn’t have any official reason to believe  _ he _ was involved, but they were throwing around words like  _ terrorist attack _ and other things that tended to make foreign powers withdraw their agents in a hurry, and Stern was bundled into a plane in the dead of night with a handful of other linguists and people whose jobs he wasn’t allowed to know about (and his clearance was pretty high)

 

Unfortunately, he had kind of a bad feeling about that part. The people with the jobs he wasn’t allowed to know about kept surveying the others, and Stern had a bad feeling.

 

Up until now he’d been taking down monsters on his own, but if the government knew about the threat and had eyes on the Volga, it would explain why they were keeping all of their agents together like this- why they were keeping the FBI agents with the blacked out badges in with the linguists.

 

He had a  _ really  _ bad feeling. 

 

He wasn’t allowed to use his phone when he was in the air, but the minute he touched down he shot off a text.

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Think I might have attracted some attention_ **

 

The reply came in almost immediately, and Stern tried not to smile like an idiot down at his phone as he loaded his bag into the trunk of the taxi he’d been provided.

 

_ Bbear: oh jeez, you THINK? It made the fucking news! I heard about on the radio, and I don't own a radio, they've been playing the broadcast in the stores and bars. _

_ Bbear: what else have you gotten yourself into? _

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: got sent back to base with the men in black. I think they suspect someone was involved, but I don’t know if they know it's me._ **

 

_ Bbear: please tell me you mean the Metaphorical men in black and not the cryptid Stanley, I think I'm going to have a heart attack if you're out fighting more cryptids right now. I'm on the board, you aren't due for any kills.  _

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: not due to die, either!_ **

 

_ Bbear: don’t push it, babe. _

 

Stern smiled to himself, and he made it all the way up to his room on the military base before it clicked that something was wrong.

 

The halls were just a little bit too empty, and the mail that was usually outside his door when he returned from a long mission was missing. Someone had taken it in, and there was no reason to do that unless-

 

He took a deep breath, but kept it quiet.

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Got a meeting with the FBI. don’t wait up!_ **

 

_ Bbear: you what _

_ Bbear: you WHAT _

_ Bbear: STNALEY _

 

Stern allowed himself a smile at the typo, and then he pushed open the door. Sure enough, there was a suit sitting at his table, a neat stack of mail next to him and a manilla file in front of him.

 

Stern closed the door behind him.

 


	9. Game Over

_ Bbear: Stanley  _

_ Bbear: Stanley _

_ Bbear: S, please please please tell me you’re not like _

_ Bbear: Okay I know you’re not selling out the guild but _

_ Bbear: I’m scared for you!! What’s happening!!  _

_ Bbear: I can’t even joke about this I’m so fucking worried don’t you dare tell me not to wait up I’m gonna be right fucking here till you get outta this meeting babe. _

 

_ Bbear: I trust you. I don’t trust easy. _

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: I know_ **

_ Bbear: Oh thank god. What happened? _

 

Stern was tired down to his bones, but he held onto the phone like a lifeline. He was still in his suit, half sprawled out on the bed. It was all he could do not to pass out. The conversation with the head of the FBI’s “Unexplained Phenomena” Division hadn’t gone badly, exactly, but it had been long and involved a lot of very careful explanations. Stern was a linguist, he knew how to pick his words, but spinning complicated explanations was exhausting work, even without dealing with the revelation that the  _ FBI had a fucking unexplained phenomena division  _ and it  _ wanted to hire him.  _

 

Well, wanted was a strong word. It was phrased politely, but Stern suspected this was one of those “join-or-we’ll-make-you-disappear” situations. 

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Got a recruitment offer._ **

_ Bbear: holy shit _

_ Bbear: To do what? _

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Same thing I was already doing. Hunting monsters._ **

 

_ Bbear: which ones? _

 

Stern frowned. Something about that being the immediate response felt off, a distant alarm going off in his head. But it had to be important, if he was asking.

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: You want the briefings?_ **

 

_ Bbear: please. _

 

The alarm bells were getting steadily louder in Stern’s head, so he swung his legs out of bed and went for the laptop. He’d received the emails for his first assignment as soon as he’d signed the goddamn contract, so he forwarded them to B’s email.

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Got them?_ **

_ Bbear: yeah, thanks.  _

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Pretty standard stuff. Think we’ve got reported sightings on a few of these._ **

**_xxx-xxx-5694: Well, except bigfoot._ **

**_xxx-xxx-5694: honestly, I thought that one was a myth._ **

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: text me when you’ve gotten through them_ **

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: are you still reading?_ **

 

**_xxx-xxx-5694: B?_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKay so -through my tears- We're gonna have a fun little choose your own adventure here. 
> 
> If you're sticking with Memoria continuity, you get to cry with me, because this is where we are. Everything else happens as it does in mttf, and how stern and barclay coped after this point will be covered there Very Soon.
> 
> If you think "fuck that this is too goddamn sad nononono" congratulations, because I thought so too, and this ending brutalized me badly enough that there's an alternate timeline for it coming soon. I'm gonna put up another series link from this page. (update: done! feel free to grab the Red Data Hunter's Guild series link)
> 
> It's called "Free Agent" and I'm sure you can guess where that's going. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I love you all, This Is Not The End. We're picking up from here either in "Free Agent" or in "Moth To The Flames". Goddamn prequels. I regret my entire life. 
> 
> See you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I could not have done this without the help of VigilantShadow and all of their pre-established Stern characterization that I bundled in here like the quilts I am currently stealing from all of your winter closets as you read this!
> 
> Thanks for reading and also the quilts.


End file.
